Contest The 11 Sentence Story! WINNER ANNOUNCED!

Story entries in this thread? Do I dare be the first to post?! I love writing exercises Here goes:

She was as like a Queen as she was a child, so fair and so noble. Would that anyone see past these qualities to know her as herself and not the Queen-Child, she would love them in a heartbeat. Her own self saw through all deceptions; even those of the most cunning minds could not escape her eye for the honesty of men. In the beginning she loved this about herself more than anything else. It was when she began to tire of the novelty that she realized she had yet to find a soul to meet her with an honest gaze, and so her most beloved flaw became a curse. She waited, the years passing with the most wondrous of colours as the seasons drifted by, while she herself remained the same, unchanged. How very much she longed to find someone, anyone, who would see her, truly and honestly see her, and let her join that vibrant passing of time – she would be so happy. It was only when she began to lose hope, that a day came in which a passersby wandered into her small Kingdom without realizing where he was, and posed to her a question. “Little Queen-Child,” the boy asked, his eyes open and sad, “Why are you so lonely?” And the little Child-Queen smiled.

 

A hood of ornately embroidered red silk covered her face, pale golden eyes peeping out from underneath. There was so much innocence in her little smile, and yet the shadow cast by the hood disguised the tired creases that fanned out under her eyes. She was the child that could see through time, and she had seen more than the longest lived humans; more than an entire generation. For under that hood, a third eye was hidden. An eye the colour of the swirling void. It was because of this she was shunned and feared, yet she did not care about this. For she could see an entire person’s life in a blink of that eye, and she knew that one day they would be no more. She had witnessed thousands of births, and thousands of deaths; the very cycle of everything on this planet. She knew the answers to every possible question, the outcome of every bet, and deepest, darkest secrets of your heart. Upon hearing her name, the void-coloured eye would blink open and stare at the one addressing her until they left. However, if it were ever to close mid-conversation…farewell.

 

(With my apologies to 12 great writers, and two not-so-great.)

What can you say about a girl with an eye in the middle of her forehead? Whether she shall turn out to be the heroine of her own life? If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll want to know is, what is her name? Call her Mizi. Mizi, light of my life, fire of my brain.

In the beginning, she was born with a gift of melancholy and a sense that the world was sad, even though it was the best of times. Or was it the worst of times? For a long time she went to bed late, but eventually found it was a far, far better thing to go to bed early.

Because tomorrow is another day and the past is a foreign country with a river running through it. Where it is a truth universally acknowledged that happy families are all alike. But unhappy families are borne back ceaselessly into the past.

 

Telling the truth, the trickster knew was like a song. Full of rhythm, words and meaning that could not be taken back. Subject to interpretation and never the same twice. Pranks, pranks where like dancing, with rhythms and different movements but always true to however made. That was the gist, the truth could trick you but the prank could teach you.

The trickster knew this well, it had made it like this. That is why it was here, third eye open watching the mortals pass and they could only see someone sucking a lollipop. Mortals have always made the most entertaining things.

It was when the trickster eyes follow a black tread that the trickster knew, that was The One this time. He was a young boy, they were always young. Now the trickster had to pick, what would he make him be, the hero or the villain?

 

I'm taking a change with my limited english and no writing experience. This just seemed stuck in my head once i read the topic. Onto the story...

“I'm ready” she says nervously tothe hooded woman who walks beside her.
“Do not worry my child, it will beover before you know it” the hooded woman replies.
“What will be my duties once this iscomplete?” the child asks, she hears no awnser.


They arrive in a large room lit fromwhat must seem like thousands of candles, which leads the way toanother group of hooded woman.
As she walkes up to the group, herguide leads her up to the leader of the group.
Instead of a hood, the leader iscompletely covered in intricate patern of swirls and what seems likehand and footprints of creatures she has never seen before.
The hooded figures start chanting in alanguage she has yet to learn, the leader starts a simple but sensualdance while she chants louder.


All of a sudden the leader dumps eachhand in a different bowl.“Bless this child in the name of Lamashtu, let her learn the way tolove all” the leader speaks while she draws the eye on her forhead.
The leader then turns to grab a smallbut sharp knife, she cuts the childs lips while saying “ You arehereby a member of our holy sisterhood.”


As the child looks up to her with tearyeyes she hears an unearthly voice that seems to come from all aroundher “ You will hereby be known as Mizi”.

 

I live in a small cottage on the outskirts of town and usually only come in for necessities so most people think I'm a recluse, but the truth of the matter is I'm really just old and far too busy these days to be bothered with ordinary humanity. I've found the older you get, the busier you become as the veil of time begins to grow thinner and thinner with age until you can see through it into worlds beyond. Well, that's only my personal theory after all but it would explain how my cottage grounds keep filling up with magical creatures that are in dire need of my care and demanding to have their stories told.

I walk very purposefully up to one of the shops that line the cobbled street, and as I open the door a tangled but purposeful mass of belt-driven gears begins turning to produce a sound like the delicate tinkling of a simple shop bell, illustrating the point that Morti is obviously an ostentatious pratt, but he makes the best automatons in town, hands down! As usual Morti is in the back obscured by a cloud of steam and buried beneath a big pile of brass parts and the finest, most delicate of skinning leathers. I call out to him quite matter-of-factly, "I'm in need of a chronicler," and in response he gestures with a mechanically enhanced thumb and take-it-or-leave-it attitude towards a single automaton in a dimly lit far corner.

Upon careful inspection, I find her to be quite small for a robot and very human looking, a delicate little creature with pale opalescent leather skin and large innocent eyes. Only her third eye, all-seeing in the practical and efficient reading of minds and partially concealed beneath a fringe of dark hair, indicates her true purpose as a chronicler. Her ears have the proper spiraling curve for recording even the most delicate of sounds, and her tiny mouth is carefully reinforced with a thickened red line of metal to stand up to the rigors of extended oral presentation at the printing shop. Two small make-up dots beneath her eyes effectively conceal the off and on switches. When I press the one beneath her right eye, she whirs to life a bit more noisily than I would have preferred for my quiet cottage retreat, but since the hand written price on the tag dangling from her pinky finger seems a bargain, I decide I can live with it.

 

It was another hot and humid summer day in the city of Tokyo, Japan. A young girl, no more than 19 stood in a line with a parasol to block her pale face from the harsh midafternoon sun. She was wearing an elaborate Lolita ensemble. What was she waiting so patiently and eagerly for? Slowly the line began to move, and the girl let out a sigh of happiness as the storefront came into view, decorated with all the colors of the orient. You might even say it was out of place for the young girl to be there, but the girl didn't care, as today she was bringing home a new member of her family, another doll for her small yet growing collection. The doll wore a short black wig and had dazzling blue eyes and pale skin. The doll wore an red oriental style dress and matching slippers. The doll seemed to smile at the girl through the window. Finally it was the girl's turn at the register and she returned home with what she had sought after- a Flower &Junior Mizi.W msd girl. They girl smiled caring lay at the doll and welcomed her to her tiny apartment on the 23rd floor of a towering skyscraper. The doll felt at ease with her new mistress.

 

She walks barefooted, footfalls slow and barely causing movement, like down fluttering to the ground.

Warm and darkly ensconced in red, I dream, contented.

A shock of cold as fresh wetness engulfs me, her voice humming softly, melodiously, almost without notice.

She pays me little heed as she paints her face, the movement of her skin so very intrigueing.

I yearn to see her, yet the curtains remain closed.

She frees her skin briefly, pausing, I imagine, to gaze upon herself; perhaps even to contemplate me, contorting her beyond what society deems acceptable.

I remain hidden.

She slides into the heavy fabric, fastens it around herself, once again heeding their expectations of her beauty.

She takes great care to hide me.

Among the flowers, she loses control and the curtains part.

I emerge and finally, I see.

 

The star had fallen far in her journey towards death. When she landed she was battered and bleeding; made painfully mortal in her last few moments. The gown her sisters had swathed her in was still bright and fine, and she smiled faintly to herself to know she would die as a queen. She opened her eyes and gazed around her, startled for a moment to find herself in the same sea of white she had been raised in as a young pinpoint of light. She reached out to one of the infant stars near her and carefully drew it in to be cradled. She sniffed the air and tasted no ozone, the sweet fragrance of chrysanthemum curling around her instead. Of course. She was no longer a star, but a woman. No longer in the vault of space, but on earth. She closed her three eyes and held the petals to her lips, the last of her breath ruffling them softly. Her pale light winked out.

 

She smiled to herself as she silently pulled the door to behind her, the old lady had been right, a few leaves in his supper and he'd been yawning his way to bed early surprised at his sudden exhaustion. Pausing in the dark she arranged the flowers to conceal even the slightest glimpse of what was hidden within them, and hurried out into the night.

It was chilly, and her traditional costume did nothing to protect her as she paused on one of the main streets, those lucky enough to be born with the seeing eye were always in demand by tourists and locals for photos and ‘lucky handshakes’, thankfully there was no way of them knowing hers was cursed and blind, and hopefully if tonight went OK her husband wouldn't find out either. Time dragged by but before she was lost to nerves a tourist walked up and asked for a photo, this one was different, she smiled and posed for a photo, as he thanked her she handed him the flowers, saying they were a gift, which in a way they were.

She spent the rest of the night wandering the city, grateful that there was always something to do and see here, she stopped for food at a stall, only to throw it away as her stomach turned, as the sky began to lighten she headed to the park and rested herself on a bench. She was starting to doze off, when a man sat next to her and rustled a newspaper, she started and glanced over at him, he met her eyes and stood up, dropping the newspaper onto the seat as he left. This was it, she picked it up and dropped it into the bin, pocketing the box contained within it, the box that would solve all her problems.

Ducking into the nearest cafe she found a seat in a quiet corner and ordered a strong coffee, waiting till the waitress moved away before turning her attention to the box. She opened it with trembling hands expecting to see cash and familiar jewels, only now turned to glass, what she saw however was nothing, her world froze, and her ears started to ring.

From the TV behind the counter she suddenly heard a familiar name "Lord Arthur Barttleby who was found murdered in his bed last night after an anonymous tip off, there is no sign of the famous lion head diamond and other jewels this famous collector is known to own", the room span. The TV continued, "Police are searching for his wife who it has been discovered has large gambling debts and was seen leaving the apartment in disguise late last night" as she sat unable to move she heard a quiet voice at the next table say "oh deary, deary me, I hope they catch her quickly" she glanced quickly at the old lady who only the day before had assured her that all her troubles were over, in the distance she could hear sirens.

 

It was always easy to forget. Specialty when the morning sky was bright and the sun warmed her skin, she could forget for a time.
But night always came, and with it, the pain and blood. She tried Moon flower of pearly white, their scent heavy in the air. She offered prayers, after hours of study to be sure she did the ritual properly, to the Goddess Luna. For years, the pain and blood plagued her, made it nearly impossible to sleep at night. She couldn’t understand why she was cursed so, what she had done to offend the gods. It was not till her 16th birthday She learned that her curse was not her fault but her long dead mother’s. No one spoke of her mother, the one whom had betrayed Ruby’s clan. It was the Dragon Blue who explained the curse to Ruby,that her mother had tossed honor to the side. That she thought she could avoid Ruby paying the price.

 

I'm entering just for fun as I joined the forum on the 7 of July:

Even though the glass of the window was completely opaque, she still felt like she wasn't seeing through. The harsh sunlight glared through, and her head throbbed terribly. Her sensitive third eye was closed as to not get damaged by the harsh rays, but the girl had to use all her strength to keep it shut and was becoming weaker by the hour. She turned away from the window. Even though she was reluctant to do so, turning away from the sunlight felt amazing. Back home, they had sun, but it was far more mellow that on Earth. She slowly opened her third eye, and blinked it a few times so that she could use it again. Her people could use their third eye to see visions of the future, though the colours they held were muted and the visions were blurry. She had often looked upon Earth and wished to go there, as she heard amazing stories about it's wealth and it's people. She so badly wanted to meet them, so badly wanted to look upon the planet shrouded in mystery. She turned her head back to the window, yes this planet was beautiful, yes she so badly wanted to be able to look upon it without fear and without herself being hurt, and yes she strongly wished she had never ever come.

 

Here is my entry.

She hated her mother’s family who had named her for her evil father. She hated that her mother had died during her birth, for her mother deserved better.

Bastard daughter, demon father, both were true and she hated it though there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Her mother’s family still had no inkling of how evil her father was.

When she was young, too young, she had turned from a mischievous young half-demon girl to a confused and angry demon. Those who abused her and caused her transformation died grisly deaths at her small but powerful hands. She ran amok for years before she learned of her true parentage and got control of her destructive and terrible powers in spite of her evil inheritance.
She had thought of looking for her hated sire but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Now, surprisingly, he had found her and was here to meet her. He had no idea of her abilities so she planned while she prepared to meet him.

Blushing like a demure young girl, dressed in her finest dress, she held the greeting flowers tightly as she stepped into the room, already transforming, ready to deliver her revenge.

 

Mizi felt the twinge across her forehead as the world around her started to black out and a new one came into focus.
The others in the room backed up as the eye on her forehead opened wide and Mizi's entire demeanor changed.
"I am scared, please help me!" She cried as she quickly leaned forward from the chair, her eyes were squinting hard but her 3rd eye remained wide.
"Where are you? Can you see outside?" A calming voice spoke softly and she felt a squeeze on her hand.
"I .. I'm so scared... wait! wait! I can see a sign... it has numbers." As she slowly called out the numbers a detective wrote it down.
"A phone number?... maybe a sign out the window?" Said another detective as he Googled the numbers.
"What else do you see? Can you see anyone?" His voice was desperate, hoping to find any more clues to where the child was.
"I... can smell rain. It has recently rained here..." She tried to speak more but her forehead calmed, the vision was over.
"Got it! These numbers match a small plant nursery over in Shelby." The detectives all quickly left to pursue the vision.
As Mizi came to, the mother was hugging Mizi tightly with regret for not being more accepting of Mizi's gift.
"They will find him now." Whispered Mizi as she and the mother embraced and were renewed in hope and understanding.

 

She stayed as still as a doll while they painted her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. She knew that when they were done she would be beautiful - so, so beautiful. She dreaded it. Her looks were less important than the composition of the soil she walked on, yet everyone around her insisted on showing them off with paints and dyes. She did not crave beauty as her handmaidens did. She simply wanted to be free, be happy, be herself. She was too shy to be comfortable being stared at admiringly and too poor of an actress to pretend otherwise - a fact which drove her mother mad. Once they were finally finished polishing her features, she stood up and walked to the long, tall mirror on the wall. I wish, she thought, to be someone else. She did not see the flash of magic and mischief in its reflection as she turned away. All wishes had a price.

 

And of all reds, she was the reddest. And of all seers, she was the most sighted. The ploughman came to the city in a cart drawn by white Bulls, and was put on the throne. And she born in chaos was a still centre amidst the swirling world. The highest call to her, the lowest seek her out, her cool warm skin, her red white sight. The evening sun glowed his brown face gold, and made specks of fire in his black beard. To please the merchants pretty daughter his life became a hard bundle all tied up. All I know, my sins are scarlet. All I seek, a white cloister. Her host of strange and terrible and beautiful children bid each other good night. Our entire flesh, our bones, our eyes and ears are built for the discovery of this knowledge.


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All the stories are great, loved reading them - when's the judging??

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First post has been updated with the announcement of the winner!

 

Oh wonderful! Heartfelt congratulations to Little Lost Pixie! Well written and well deserved! And a big thank you to the mods for this extremely fun contest. I had never done anything like this before and found it throroughly entertaining to take part. And let's not forget some hearty applause for all the entrants for the delightful evening of reading they gave me. You're all winners in my book!

 

Alright! Congrats to Little Lost Pixie! Very beautiful writing!

Yes, seconding PoeticSoul with a lovely thank you to the mods! Writing contests are so much fun, both for the writing and the reading, I hope there will be more in the future!

 

Congratulations Little Lost Pixie ! I quite enjoyed everyone's entries, some very creative souls on here

 

Congrats Little Lost Pixie this was a very fun event, hope there more of them.

 

Congrats [MENTION=65395]Little Lost Pixie[/MENTION]!

 

Congrats @Little Lost Pixie!

 

Oh wow, thank you so much guys! I loved all of the entries, I was never expecting to win, so this is such an awesome surprise!

 

Congrats little lost pixie! Very fun contest - exercising for the brain. Lots of creative entries.


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Congratulations! Great story can't wait to see what you do with the head

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Congratulations Little Lost Pixie. This was indeed a very fun contest.

 

Congratulation Little Lost Pixie - your story was really lovely.

 

Thank you!

 

Congrats!!! Lovely lovely story

 

Congratulations! Awesome story .